Harvest of Gold (32 page)

Behind him, the door of Nehemiah’s office remained ajar, pouring soft light into the hall. “My lord! Have you been meeting with the governor so late?”

Close up, she noticed the hollows under his cheeks, the paleness of the usually robust skin. Was anyone in Jerusalem not exhausted? Weariness had not robbed him of his startling beauty. Even after being with him for so many months, she sometimes found the sheer physical attraction of that face overwhelming. It made her as shy and tongue-tied as an adolescent girl. In the aftermath of the rupture in their relationship, these feelings had grown even more disruptive to her peace. She feared she could not hide them from his penetrating observation. His relentless intelligence came against her like an unleashed weapon, leaving no room for pride or self-preservation. It shattered something in her soul to acknowledge that he had no use for her responses anymore.

In spite of the uneasy truce they had entered since Damascus, he remained withdrawn from her. He had shut a part of himself up, locked it away, so that she could not reach it. When he sought her, it was no longer with the ease of dear friends. He felt awkward around her. And he spent his nights alone. It was the deepest sorrow of her heart. She surrendered it to the Lord day and night, but it always returned and weighed her down with the heaviness of a stone olive press.

Darius rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “There are many details to oversee. Nehemiah is planning his defense strategy for the coming days.” He put one foot on the bottom step and rested his elbow on his bent knee. “He is surprisingly astute, your cousin. I knew he was a talented administrator, but I didn’t expect him to have any military sense. I underestimated him; it turns out he would do well as a general in time of war.”

“Will there be a battle?”

He shrugged a wide shoulder. “No one knows for certain. We must prepare as if there will be.”

Sarah sat on the stair and wrapped her arms around her legs.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Darius asked.

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought fresh air might do me good.”

“Come. I will accompany you. I could use some air myself.”

The courtyard was dusty and smelled of horse dung. Not a single flower or herb plant adorned the place. Darius found a stone bench where they could sit side by side. He leaned against the wall behind them and gazed at the stars. The night blazed with them.

“I miss home,” Sarah said. What had made her blurt that out? Would she never learn to have control over her mouth?

Darius turned to study her. “I thought this was home.”

“In a way. Home to my spirit. But I think of your palace near Persepolis as my real home. If we were there, we could stroll in the gardens, with the sound of the pools trickling, and the scent of honeysuckle and lilies sweetening the air. Anousya would lick my toes and demand my attention. My friends and family would be gathered about me. And there wouldn’t be an army at my door, seeking my blood.”

“Are you sorry you came?”

“No. Just tired, I think. Tired of worrying.”

“We’ve had a report that Sanballat and his allies have postponed their plans to come against us. Apparently, witnessing the evidence of Jerusalem’s strong defense has put them off for now. Even if they choose to come against us, it will be in the form of a skirmish, directed at a portion of the wall. They would not come against the city itself. The king, while not concerned with minor disputes, might find an outright war against one of the regions under his rule offensive. Something these men would not risk. Rest easy, little Sarah. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Sarah flashed a smile. “You are handy with an arrow, as I have good reason to know. Perhaps you should teach me.”

“You’d probably take off my ear in your first attempt to use a bow. My thumb would be the victim of your second attempt. And the tip of my nose would be gone in the third. No. I confess I don’t find it an appealing prospect.”

“Are you disparaging my aim?”

“Absolutely. I’ve seen you throw a stick for Anousya.”

“You are a wiser man than I gave you credit for. So, how will we go back to rebuilding the wall?”

“Without the help of your bow and arrow, you mean? I’m sure we’ll manage.”

Sarah laughed. “I mean Nehemiah had to stop the building project in order to station all those guards. If we start rebuilding again, won’t we be vulnerable to attack? We only have enough men to either guard or build, it seems to me. We can’t do both.”

“Yes, we can. Nehemiah’s plan is that half the men do the work while the other half, equipped with spears, shields, and armor, post themselves behind the workers. The Persian officers will help the guard. No doubt the sight of us will put off Sanballat. The work will go on, a little slower than before. But it will go on. I told you. Your cousin has a good head on his shoulders.”

“You seem to have warmed up to him.”

“I said he had talent. I didn’t say he had become my dear friend.” He stretched against the wall. “Roxanna and her servant leave for Egypt tomorrow. She can’t delay her departure anymore.”

“Are you sad to see her go?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual. Would he miss the beautiful Roxanna?

“Sad? Relieved, more like. Never seen anyone like that girl for stirring trouble. I thought Lysander was in a foul mood while she was around. But he became worse since she announced her intention to leave. He’s been acting like a wounded tiger all day. Heaven help us when she actually goes.”

Nehemiah had arranged for the construction to begin again that morning. There weren’t as many workers at the wall. But that could not be helped. Many of the stronger men had been posted as guards. He had spent the past hour walking the perimeter, trying to ascertain if certain sections needed more help. On one side of him walked a silent Darius, appraising their preparations with shrewd, experienced eyes.

On his other side, he was accompanied by a trumpeter who held his instrument at the ready. Before starting the work again, Nehemiah had told the laborers that he would use the trumpet as a signal. “The construction site is extensive and spread out and, now with fewer workers, our men are widely separated from each other. If we are attacked, I will use the trumpet as a signal.”

At first the people had thought he wanted to give them a warning so that they could flee at the first sign of attack. Nehemiah had cleared up that misconception before it had a chance to take root.

“What I want you to do is follow the sound of the trumpet, for it will
lead
you to the fighting. We will aid our brothers who have come under enemy assault. Remember that we are not fighting in our own strength. Our God will fight for us!”

Now as he walked past the upper palace, near the court of the guard, a tired-looking man pulled on his sleeve. Nehemiah turned in polite inquiry.

“My lord, I live to the north of Judah, near Sanballat’s territory. I am begging you to stop this work. Just yesterday we heard the news that he had made a promise to come and kill you all while you slept. Whatever you do, they will attack you. Your paltry defenses shall avail you nothing! You’ll be murdered, and then what good will your wall be?”

If Nehemiah had heard this warning once, he had heard it ten times. It was becoming like an irritating toothache. It would not relent. At first, he had been annoyed. Now, he was beginning to grow concerned. Many of his leaders were already falling under its repetitious spell. If you hit the same patch of skin often enough, you would eventually form a tender bruise. Touch it again, and your victim would cry out from the pain. After so many warnings of impending disaster, the residents of Jerusalem were beginning to act like a bruised man.

Physical threat was the city’s greatest fear. Though Babylon’s invasion had occurred long before any of them had been born, the hearts of the people continued to bear the scars of that savage captivity. Over one hundred years of fear rose up at the threat of Sanballat’s attack. It was a generational terror. To heal one man of the fear of invasion and violent death, God had to go three generations deep.

Repeated reports of imminent doom were taking their toll on the morale of the occupants of Jerusalem. The men who insisted on spreading their disheartening news had the best of intentions. They considered themselves faithful Judeans who were helping their countrymen. Instead, they were as effective as Sanballat in the proliferation of discouragement.

All around him, men were losing their heads. Nehemiah intended to keep his. It wasn’t so much that he was immune to pressure. Far from it. He just knew that if he clung to God, he could push through this time of hardship. And if he persevered, he might be able to inspire others to do the same.

“Look,” Nehemiah said to his uninvited companion, and pointed. Not far from them, Azariah and his servants were working on the wall beside Azariah’s own house. “What do you see?”

“They are building the wall.”

Nehemiah almost called the man a
genius
, before managing to clamp down on the sarcasm that wanted to boil over. That might bring him a moment’s relief, but it would turn the heart of a man away. And he knew which had more value.

“Note those who are fetching and carrying. Do you see how with one hand they carry the instruments of their work—buckets, stones, spades—and in the other, they carry swords and daggers and spears?”

“Yes.”

“Now the builders. Observe how each one has a sword buckled to his side.”

“I see.”

“Try to understand, my friend. We are ready for whatever may come. Stop being terrorized by a few menacing words. Put your hope in the Lord. Instead of bringing alarming news, make yourself useful and give Azariah a hand.”

The man’s jaw grew slack.

“Go on,” Nehemiah said. “We’re shorthanded. Your help would be welcome.”

The man seemed dazed by the governor’s response. Nehemiah imagined that he had expected weak-kneed dismay, not steely resolve. It seemed to have made an impression, for he obeyed Nehemiah’s command and approached Azariah.

Darius gave a thin smile. “He looks like he can’t figure out how he went from being the bearer of crucial news to helping in the very project he was disparaging moments ago.”

Nehemiah ran an exasperated hand over his head. “With friends like this, Jerusalem doesn’t need any enemies. They don’t seem to understand that there are times in life when you must be both a builder and a warrior. One hand on a bucket and the other on a sword.”

“Aren’t you concerned about slowing down? With this strategy, you’ve lost a good part of your work force.”

Nehemiah paused. “Sometimes you have to do less in order to achieve more. There are seasons in life when you have to slow down your productivity. I must use part of my strength to resist the foe, and part for the work of God. I can’t bury my head in the sand and pretend that Judah has no enemies. My time and resources must reflect that fact, or I have already lost.

“God has asked me to build up Jerusalem. But He has also asked me to protect what He has already built. With one hand we will hold on to the instruments of building, with the other, we will grasp the weapons of protection.”

Roxanna left for Egypt the following morning. Sarah went to the courtyard to bid her fare well. She found Lysander already there, leaning against a wall, his arms crossed against his massive chest. His blond hair, newly washed, sparkled in the sunlight. His face bore such a thunderous expression that Sarah, intending to approach him with a hearty greeting, made a hasty retreat.

“I wished you didn’t have to leave,” Sarah said as Roxanna checked her horse’s saddle. To her surprise, Sarah had grown to like the Persian girl. In spite of her barbed tongue, Roxanna’s genuine interest in those around her made her a lively companion. Sarah suspected that if she had remained in Jerusalem, they would have formed the kind of deep friendship that her heart longed to have.

Roxanna played with the leather bridle of her horse, a massive creature that towered over her, though she did not seem to mind its menacing strength, or the danger it posed. “We Persians are slaves to our duty.” She threw a quick look toward Lysander before returning her attention to Sarah. “I wish I didn’t have to leave either.” With disconcerting abandon, she threw her arms around Sarah and gave her an enveloping hug. “I’ll miss you.”